


at least they're excited, but they don't understand

by sky_reid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (mostly louis refers to things as stupid), Body Image, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Kinda, Lactation Kink, M/M, Mild Dysphoria, Mpreg, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Wet & Messy, my new favorite tag god bless, oh oh right hang on, there's several instances of mild ableist language, wet wet wet wet wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's halloween but louis doesn't feel like going anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at least they're excited, but they don't understand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citiesandlights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/citiesandlights/gifts).



> hello!
> 
> this went a bit differently from what i originally intended to do or what the prompt originally asked for, i hope you still like it :)
> 
> this is also my first time writing mpreg i hope i did okay
> 
> the title comes from _nightmare before christmas_

“Lou! Hurry up, we’re going to be late!” Harry shouts from the bedroom.

 

Louis pokes petulantly at the remote as he looks for something, anything that’s not Halloween-themed. “Good,” he grumbles under his breath. His ankles are swollen and he’s had this terrible pain in his lower back all day and he barely slept any last night. He’s tired and sore and cranky and he’s not going to Nick bloody Grimshaw’s stupid Halloween party no matter how much Harry begs. They’ve been together for seven years, Louis’ learnt how to resist.

 

Harry’s head pops out from the bedroom. He’s all smiley and happy, dimples popping out and perfect little ringlets of curls bouncing around his shoulders. Louis _hates_ him. “Which costumes do you want this year?” Harry asks, oblivious to the daggers Louis is staring at his own feet. “I have the Peter Pan and Tinkerbell ones, the Captain America and Winter Soldier ones and the cat and mouse ones, but we wore those last year. _Although_ , Nick wasn’t there last year so he hasn’t seen them. So I suppose those are an option too,” he keeps rambling. It would be cute if Louis weren’t in a Mood.

 

“Wear whatever you want,” he gripes, “I’m not going.”

 

The way Harry’s face falls almost makes Louis feel guilty. Almost. “What do you mean, you’re not going? We always go to Halloween parties together.”

 

“Well, we won’t be this year, I suppose.” Honestly, Louis is more than a little peeved that Harry’s not noticing just how foul of a mood he’s in. He’s been mostly lucky, especially considering he's carrying twins, only had light symptoms, barely any morning sickness after the first trimester and minimal heartburn despite his downright bizarre cravings, but the third trimester has been absolute hell so far. He’s barely sleeping, he’s constantly tired, he can hardly get himself up the stairs, he’s sore all over and he’s constantly, _constantly_ horny despite looking and feeling like a beached whale. He’s ready for it to be over, he just wants the little buggers _out_. “You can still go if you want,” he offers huffily. He hopes Harry doesn’t go to the party without him, as shitty and co-dependent as that may be, but he knows Harry’s been looking forward to seeing his friends and having a bit of fun and he _loves_ Halloween so he’s been proper excited about going and Louis doesn’t want to take that away from him, not even when he’s this grumpy. Besides, he knows he’s not the best company right now. He wouldn’t want to spent all his time cooped up inside with himself; he won’t blame Harry for wanting a night off. Pretty soon they won’t have that option anymore so he might as well cash in on his free nights while he can.

 

Harry stands in the doorway leaning against the doorjamb and shuffling his feet a little. He looks ridiculous, fluffy pink slippers and tight dark boxer briefs making for a very strange outfit. “I don’t wanna go without you,” he mumbles. He looks a bit like a scolded child. Their kids had better not inherit that pout though, or Louis is going to give into every request they ever make.

 

He sighs. “H, I’m sorry, honestly. But I really can’t, I’m tired and I’m in pain and I just don’t bloody feel like it.” He tries to get up, puts his fuzzy-socked feet down from the coffee table and pushes himself off the sofa, wincing at the pain that shoots through his lower back. It’s not even the worst one he’s felt today, but he can feel tears prickling in his eyes. Great, now he’s also having moodswings and crying at the smallest things. That’s just perfect.

 

Harry’s in front of him the blink of an eye, fitting himself between Louis’ spread knees and the coffee table like he’s not a giant who shouldn’t be able to make himself so small. His large hands are warm where they come to rest on Louis’ thighs. “Hey, it’s okay, we don’t have to go, alright? It’s not a big deal.”

 

Louis whines and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes; he can’t stop crying, what the _fuck_. “It _is_ a big deal though, you’ve been talking about this party for bloody weeks,” he mumbles into his arms. “And I _want_ to go and I want _you_ to go and have fun, but I’m just _so_ tired and everything bloody hurts and I can barely walk without getting winded and I can’t even _drink_ and—“ He takes a deep breath around a hiccupping sob. Even just crying is exhausting. He deflates and falls back against the sofa. “I just want to sit on a mountain of pillows and eat popcorn and watch shitty horror movies,” he whines. He feels the cushions dip and the next thing he knows, Harry’s wrapping him up in a tight hug. He keeps his weight entirely off of Louis, mindful of his belly between them.

 

“Are you sure it’s _popcorn_ you want to eat? That’s pretty tame,” he teases. Louis slaps his thigh.

 

“Fuck off,” he says, but he’s smiling again. One of Harry’s hands rubs his belly and then stays resting on the wide curve of it. Louis feels a kick right underneath where Harry’s palm is.

 

“Hey.” Harry tilts his head up so their eyes meet. “How about we try on some costumes and we pick something to wear—“ Louis groans and opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t want to go anywhere, doesn’t even want to move off the sofa, but Harry talks right over him, “and then if you feel like it, we can go to Nick’s party and if you don’t, we’ll stay in and I’ll make you anything you want to snack on and we’ll watch old horrors. How does that sound?” And that actually sounds quite lovely now that Louis thinks about it. He feels a warmth spread through his chest and a flush rise to his cheeks. God, these hormones will be the death of him. “Yeah?” Harry prompts.

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

Harry helps him up and walks him to their bedroom with an arm around his waist. Louis wants to complain about it because he’s pregnant, not an invalid, he can walk on his own, but well, it feels kinda nice so he lets it slide. He’s in a good mood. For now.

 

The bedroom looks like a bomb went off in their closet; there’s jeans and shorts and snapbacks strewn all over the floor, tees spilling over from their shelves and even a few of Harry’s tablecloth shirts that Louis likes to wear now because even he can fit into them are hanging off the hangers on only one shoulder. The costumes Harry suggested earlier are the only thing that’s still neat in the room, laid out on the bed one next to the other, already paired up. The Peter Pan and Tinkerbell are by far Louis’ favourite; they wore those to the first Halloween they attended as a couple, running around like madmen in the garishly green outfits, chucking candy and bits of food at everyone. He still remembers how he made Harry laugh with some stupid joke and made him fall over backwards from his chair just like the real Tinkerbell does. It occurs to him now, looking at the neatly folded green shirt, that he wouldn’t be able to wear that costume now. Nor would he fit into Bucky’s uniform. Much like most of his clothes, neither of those costumes stretches nearly enough to accommodate his still growing belly.

 

“H,” he says, sounding disturbed even to his own ears, “I can’t _fit_ into those.”

 

Harry looks at him, then looks at the bed like he’s only realising it now too. How they both managed to forget that Louis is as big as a house when it’s staring them right in the faces, Louis honestly has no clue. “Oh, yeah, that’s true,” Harry muses. “The cat one’s stretch though. You can probably fit into that one?” He sounds like this isn’t a Deeply Upsetting situation, like there’s nothing wrong with the fact that Louis’ grown so big he’s had to forego wearing most clothes around the house because everything feels too tight on him and that now he couldn’t even go to a Halloween party if he wanted to because of how fat he is.

 

As soon as Louis is out of the AC/DC shirt he’s wearing, he knows there’s no way he’ll fit into what Harry’s handing him. Even Harry’s old tees that he wears around the house, stretched to the point of being mostly see-through if not already ripped, ride up on his tummy leaving almost the entire bottom half of it exposed. The black top he wore for his costume last year is stretch, but it’s meant to be tight and it’s a whole four sizes smaller than what he’s taken to wearing lately. He manages to pull it over his head and down over the soft cups of his bra, but it doesn’t stretch nearly enough to cover even half of his belly, instead staying bunched up between the curve of it and the small swell of his breasts. The tights that go with it are even worse, he can barely manage to pull them up and the wide elastic band of them couldn’t possibly hope to stretch wide enough to sit anywhere but under his belly. They feel tight around his thighs and bum too, tighter than he remembers them being. He doesn’t feel at all like the sexy kitten that the costume is supposed to be; instead it makes him think of a sausage stuffed so full it burst open. He looks over his shoulder at Harry who’s adjusting the pink mouse ears on top of his head and who looks exactly as cute and as good as he did this time last year.

 

It hits him quite suddenly, the insecurity that’s been growing along with his new body. He’s not used to dealing with it. He’s usually always confident about his looks, knows how to show off the parts of his body that he likes and how to cover up those he doesn’t. Ever since he got pregnant though, his body’s been changing rapidly; he has a belly that stands out so far he hasn’t been able to see his own toes in months, his hips have gotten wider, his bum fatter and thighs thicker, he’s gained weight and he’s grown breasts, small but definitely noticeable, and there are angry red stretch marks covering his tummy and chest and he’s— He’s never felt less attractive. People keep telling him that he’s _glowing_ , that he wears it so well, that his skin looks positively luminescent, that he looks healthier, happier, better, but he looks at himself in the mirror and he sees a body he doesn’t recognise as his own and he sees the flaws that weren’t there before and he wonders how much of it will stay with him after the birth. Nobody ever told him being pregnant would be this hard.

 

“Lou? You alright?” Harry asks, looking at him in the mirror. Louis sees his own reflection too. Last year he stared at himself in the mirror for at least ten minutes before they could leave. The tights clung to his thighs and arse in all the right places and his tummy looked flat and the shirt was open enough to show just a peek of a collarbone and he looked good, he _felt_ good, strong and confident and attractive. Now he looks like a caricature of the same person, his huge exposed belly the first thing the eye is drawn to. “Oh,” Harry breathes when he notices what Louis is looking at.

 

Louis has to get out of there. He waddles out of the room as fast as he can and goes straight for the empty guest room across the hall. He’s still wearing the stupid costume if what he’s doing to it could even be called wearing, but at least there are no mirrors in this room that he can see himself in. He hadn’t realised before how much it bothers him how his body has changed. He’s been complaining about nausea and heartburn and swollen ankles and a sore back; he hasn’t stopped to consider the less obvious problems he’s been having. He loves his belly, loves to hold it and speak to it and rub it, loves when Harry hugs him in bed at night, arms wrapped around his waist and both hands cradling his bump protectively, loves to feel their tiny little feet kicking, loves that it’s his and Harry’s children, their _family_ in there. He’s never before stopped to think about how he likes the _idea_ of it, what it means and how it makes them act, but not the thing itself. Looking down at it now, the part of it that he can see at least, he hates it. He feels guilty the moment he thinks it, but it doesn’t make it any less true. He knows that even when their babies come, he’ll still be left with the extra weight and the marred skin and that makes his insides twist. Harry calls his belly beautiful now, but what will he think of it when it’s empty again and no less ugly? What will _Louis_ think when he’s left only with the reality of how he looks and no comfort of why he looks that way?

 

Harry’s soft knock on the door is all the warning he gets before Harry’s stepping into the room, asking, “Lou?”

 

“Yeah, love?” Louis replies. He sounds drained, all earlier anger and bashfulness gone from his voice.

 

Harry walks up to him and hugs him from behind, hands naturally coming to rest on the swell of his tummy. Louis wants to laugh a bit. “What’s wrong, babe?” Harry asks, nuzzling into the side of Louis’ neck and swaying them slowly left and right.

 

Louis bites his lip. He’s been very vocal about every complaint he’s had with this pregnancy so far, he’s cussed while throwing up and he’s ranted about how difficult it is to move when he’s carrying two extra persons inside and he's demanded that Harry fucks him at the most inopportune times, but he’s beginning to understand that this is different. This is a much more deep-seated insecurity, a weakness and not just a complaint. Still, he and Harry have a strict no secrets rule and Louis’ obeyed it so far, he’s not about to break it now. “It’s just… It’s hard, yeah? I’m so… I’m so _big_. I barely even fit in _your_ _loose_ clothes. And it’s only gonna get worse! And I don’t look like myself anymore,” he finishes quietly, hanging his head a bit. He feels Harry’s lips pressed to the back of his neck and Harry’s hands start to rub over his belly.

 

“Is that why you ran away? Because you didn’t like what you saw in the mirror?”

 

“I look like I tried to put on a children’s costume. You can’t even tell it’s supposed to be a cat because all you’re looking at is my stupid giant belly.”

 

Harry leans over his shoulder and pats his bump. “Don’t worry, babies, he doesn’t actually mean that.” Then he grabs Louis’ shoulders and spins him around. “You’re right, it is the first thing I see,” he says pointing at Louis’ belly, “and it’s absolutely gorgeous. In fact I vote we go to the party. We’ll paint your belly to look like a bun and I’ll put on an apron. I did use to be a baker, it fits.” Louis snorts a surprised laugh at that, makes an unattractive sound through his nose. “Get it? Because you have a bun in the oven.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I got it. That was terrible, Styles.”

 

Harry shrugs. He’s smiling wide now, eyes shining and dimples carved deep into his cheeks. Louis can’t help but smile back at him. He keeps his eyes on Harry’s face as it gets closer, goes cross eyed when Harry touches their foreheads together. Louis’ naked belly is pressing against the soft material of Harry’s pink mouse shirt. He looks down at it, knows Harry’s looking too. Harry’s hands come to rest on Louis’ lower back, fingers digging skilfully into the knots there and making Louis moan in half-pleasure, half-pain.

 

“Your belly is perfect,” Harry tells him fiercely, “and you shouldn’t want to hide it. You should show it off. You should go out like this so everyone can see it. It’s where you’re carrying _our babies_ , Lou, do you know how special that is?”

 

Louis closes his eyes, unable to keep staring at his own body. “I know that, but—“ He gasps when Harry presses down on a particularly sore spot. “But if that’s the only good thing about it,” he whispers, not daring to speak louder, “what happens after the babies are here?”

 

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry whines sounding like _he’s_ the one in pain. He walks them backwards towards the bed, nudges Louis gently to lie down. With his belly in the way Louis can’t even see Harry until Harry’s on the bed with him, straddling his thighs and holding his bump with both hands. “ _Of course_ that’s not the only reason it’s beautiful.” The proximity of a still mostly naked Harry combined with the relaxing massage he’s just got and the raging hormones has Louis’ cock filling in his tights. He wriggles around on the bed a little. Harry leans over and kisses the top of his belly. “It’s beautiful because it’s _you_. Everything about you will always be beautiful to me. I like it all round and full like this and I’ll like it when it’s just a little poochy and folds when you sit up.”

 

“Even with the marks?”

 

“Even with the marks,” Harry replies, tracing the lines etched into the stretched skin. He peppers gentle kisses all over Louis’ belly. His hands stay glued onto the slightly uneven skin, fingertips tracing lightly over the stretchmarks but never breaking contact, like he physically _can’t_ take them away. He’s always like that when they have sex now, careful and mindful of Louis’ bump, always touching it and kissing it and Louis always thought it was Harry’s way of paying attention to their babies or maybe the ridiculous pregnancy kink he has, but now it feels different; it feels like this time is not for their children or for Harry, it feels like this is for Louis. It feels like being with Harry has always felt, like Harry's just as into it as Louis is and Louis thinks maybe-- Maybe Harry just… likes his body. Even like this.

 

Harry rests his head on Louis' belly. Louis runs a hand through his hair, shakes out the curls and twirls them around his fingers. Harry's eyes drift shut, lips curling in a soft smile; he's practically purring under Louis' hands. He's ridiculous. "You're ridiculous," Louis tells him, tugging on his hair a bit. Harry nuzzles into his tummy and rolls his hips a bit so his hard cock presses against Louis' thigh. Even so, Louis knows he'd probably be happy to just lie there with his head pillowed on Louis' bump and Louis' fingers carding through his hair until he falls asleep and gets a crick in his neck if Louis decided he didn't feel like moving. Louis' been horny all day though, all week actually, and he doesn't want sleepy cuddles right now (he probably will later, he always gets so clingy when he's exhausted these days), he just  _wants_. He’s not nearly as mobile as he used to be, can’t arch off the bed much or rut up against Harry anymore, so he pulls on his hair instead, harshly enough to make him suck a breath in sharply and buck against Louis' thighs. His hands tickle over Louis' sides as he reaches for the tights bunched up at his hips and starts rolling them down.

 

“What do you want, babe?” he asks. He's kissing down the centre of Louis' belly, already has his tights and boxers halfway down his thighs and Louis watches him disappear behind the swell of his bump. Harry's hair slips out from between his fingers and he rests both of his hands on his tummy. The only warning he gets before Harry licks at the head of his cock where its resting against the underside of his belly is the dampness of Harry's breath on his skin.

 

"I want," he chokes out as Harry grabs the base of his cock to hold it away from his belly enough that he can suck it into his mouth. His hair tickles and he doesn't have a lot of room to manoeuvre with Louis' bump in the way; Louis tries to spread his legs so Harry can get in a better position but he finds his movements restricted by the fabric holding his legs tightly bound together. While tying Louis down until he's practically completely immobilised and driving him mad with the lightest touches isn't necessarily new in their sex life, it's not what Louis wants. He's at the point where he's gagging for it now,  _needs_ it to be hard and rough to get the frustration out; normally when he's like this he prefers to fuck Harry or at least have Harry pound into him properly from behind, neither of which he thinks is an option now. He's not entirely comfortable getting on his hands and knees, too worried he might end up resting on his belly too much and while he's fucked Harry since he's got pregnant, he wasn't as big then and he doesn't particularly fancy trying to find the balance he'd need for that (or heaven forbid standing). Harry slurps as he pulls off his cock and strokes it with a tight fist as he starts kissing Louis' belly again.

 

“Can you ride me?" he asks and  _oh_ , Louis hasn't been on top since he was much smaller and setting the pace while still getting to feel the fullness and the stretch of Harry's huge cock inside him sounds pretty good right now.

 

He's not sure he can do it now but he wants to. “I can try,” he replies.

 

Harry moans and squeezes at the base of his cock. "Gonna look so good getting yourself off on my cock, can't wait to see you moving on top of me all big like this." He's slurring a bit. He tightens his hand on Louis' cock and drags it up and back down, pulls the foreskin over the head and then back to reveal it completely; Louis feels him dribble spit right on top of it. He moans and grabs at his own tits; he's still not used to finding his chest soft and swollen and sore and he gasps at how sensitive he is. Harry sits up to look at him and groans. “Come on, I don’t have anything in here,” he says. He gives Louis a few more strokes before jumping off the bed, pulling the tights and underwear down and off Louis' legs. He holds a hand out for Louis to take.

 

“Really, H? You’ve stocked the entire house with lube, but not this room?”

 

Harry actually looks sheepish, blushes a bit as he helps Louis up and off the bed and pulls him by the hand towards the hallway. “Didn’t wanna give any guests ideas about what we do?”

 

Louis laughs. “Ideas like? That we fuck in every room of the house? Because we kinda _do_ , darling,” he teases, stopping abruptly and dragging Harry close to bop him on the nose. “Thanks though. For this.”

 

“Why is it weird when I thank you for sex but not when you do the same?” Harry asks. He’s playing dumb on purpose. Louis shoves him away.

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

The door to their room is no more than a couple of steps away, yet between Louis waddling around slowly and Harry making them pause every two seconds to steal a kiss it feels like it takes them an eternity to get there. Louis feels a bit ridiculous naked but for his bra and the tight black top than may as well be a crop top, his big belly swaying and hiding where he’s hard underneath. Harry comes up behind him and nips at his ear, hooks his fingers into the top at Louis’ sides and pulls it up and over Louis’ head. When he hugs Louis this time Louis can feel that he’s naked, his cock hard and leaking, the sticky head of it smearing wetness over Louis’ lower back and arse. He pushes back against it with a moan.

 

He feels like he’s been turned on forever. The hormones make him horny all the time to the point where he’s gotten hard just doing the dishes. While he could still reach around himself without much difficulty he wanked twice or even three times a day or fingered himself in the morning and plugged himself up for the rest of the day. Harry’s been very accommodating on this particular issue, ridiculous boy that he is, drooling over Louis and fucking him every opportunity they got. Louis’ had more sex in the last seven months than he had while they were trying for a baby.

 

Since he’s got big though Harry’s taken to sucking him off. It’s faster and doesn’t require Louis to strain as much physically. The few times they’ve fucked it’s been nice and slow, on their sides with Harry behind him and pushing into him gently. It’s been good but they both like variety and Louis misses being able to go hard and rough and fast.

 

Harry unclasps his bra and takes it off him. He's only taken to wearing one in the last two weeks or so; his chest's been swollen for months, but he's only really had proper breasts for half that time and only started lactating less than a month ago. He used to tape the pads on, still does sometimes, then Harry came home one day with a simple baby blue maternity bra. Louis doesn't particularly like wearing it especially now that he's decided to forego, at least when he's at home, most other items of clothing in the name of comfort, but even he has to admit it's more practical. The pads on the inside of it are damp, will probably need changing when they’re done. Louis knows Harry notices because his hands are on Louis’ tits before the bra’s even hit the floor.

 

“Lou,” he whispers, “you’re leaking.”

 

“I know,” Louis replies. His tits are sore, the nipples even more sensitive now that he’s pregnant, and every touch to them is a mixture of pleasure and pain. He throws his head back and rests it on Harry's shoulder, breathing heavily as Harry plays with his tits, squeezing them and pushing them together, pinching his nipples lightly so droplets of cloudy liquid form at the hardened nubs.

 

Ever since Louis woke up from his nap that one afternoon with wet patches on his tee, Harry’s been a bit obsessed. He likes to squeeze Louis' tits until they leak when they're fucking and pulls Louis onto his lap sometimes, lifts or opens whatever top he's wearing and suckles on his tits until they’re empty. It almost never fails to get Louis hard and begging for more, he's even come from it alone once or twice, but it's not always sexual. Sometimes Harry does it when they've already come, lying in bed still sweaty and breathing hard or early in the morning when they're still sleepy-slow and relaxed, does it to help make Louis' breasts feel less full and sore and achy even when it leads nowhere.

 

Louis knows Harry's watching over his shoulder because he lets out these quiet little  _oh_ 's, Louis guesses whenever the milk dribbles out; he rocks against Harry's cock, arches his back a little so it pushes his arse further out and gets Harry's cock sliding between his cheeks. He ends up inadvertently pushing his tummy out as well and Harry ruts forward against his arse. "Look so good like this, Lou," he moans into Louis' neck. The sound of it makes Louis' cock twitch against his belly.

 

"Come on, H," Louis whines.

 

"Yeah, yeah," Harry agrees, kissing Louis' neck. He squeezes his tits and thrusts against his arse one more time before stepping away. He grabs the lube from the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, spreads his legs wide and taps his bare thighs. His cock stands up proudly, shiny wet at the red tip and Louis' mouth waters. He considers getting on his knees instead and sucking Harry at least a bit, but he can already feel little stabs of pain in his back again and he figures the faster he can get Harry inside him, the better.

 

He knees up onto the bed, sits on Harry's lap. He has to open his legs wide to get them on either side of Harry's and he's balancing on his thighs, leaving his arse hanging between Harry's knees. The position is a bit awkward, especially now that Louis is too big to allow them to kiss properly, but it gets Harry’s wet fingers pressing against him almost immediately and Louis is not gonna complain about that. Harry holds him steady with a hand on the small of his back, pressed down where Louis gets sore, fingertips digging in rhythmically. He leans forward as far as he can, stretches his neck so he can bury his face between Louis’ tits, mouth at them without coordination, achieving little more than leaving them wet with spit and getting them both even more riled up.

 

Last time Harry insisted on being very careful with him, taking time to open him up and pushing in slowly. He can probably tell Louis is gagging for it now though; he pushes a finger into him roughly, pumps it in and out quickly when all Louis does is moan and throw his head back. Louis holds onto his shoulder for support, keeps one hand on his belly as he tries to ride Harry's finger. He doesn't have nearly enough leverage like this, can barely sway his hips a bit forward and back and he groans in frustration. When Harry huffs a laugh into his chest, Louis sinks his nails punishingly hard into his skin. He feels more than hears Harry's whimper.

 

Harry doesn't waste too much time teasing him, fingers him quick and inelegant, just to get him relaxed enough to take another finger. Two fingers are a tighter fit, but Louis' so desperate he wants to beg for more after only a few thrusts. He laces his fingers in Harry’s long hair so he can tug on it. Harry's fingers move inside him with with little finesse, fingertips brushing over his prostate at random, making him gasp every time. He bends forward as much as he can, supported by Harry’s hand on his back, guides Harry's head around by pulling on his hair until he manages to get Harry’s lips latched onto one of his nipples. He hasn’t pumped today and Harry hasn’t sucked him in a few days so it doesn’t take long before he feels the intense relief of milk pouring out into Harry’s mouth. He moans loudly, arching his back to push his breast harder against Harry's plush lips while pulling Harry forward at the same time. Harry sucks on his nipple in quick little pulls, in the same rhythm he’s fucking Louis with his fingers in and Louis can already feel his cock bouncing with it, getting his belly wet where it rubs against the underside of it.

 

“Enough, ‘m ready,” he says, tugging on Harry’s hair and trying to move him away from his chest. Harry slips another finger into him instead, pushes it in easily and doesn't even slow down. “If you keep going, I’ll come,” Louis warns. Harry looks up at him and gives his nipple another long hard pull before moving away. The cool air hits the sensitised, wet skin and Louis can't help but cup his tit and roll the nipple between his fingers. There’s still milk dribbling out of him, dripping down onto his belly and getting him wet. Harry watches, seemingly transfixed, as the droplet of cloudy white liquid slides down the side of Louis’ belly.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he curses, pulling his fingers out of Louis harshly, “how do you not realise how hot you are like this?” Louis feels the blush creep up onto his cheeks. He's not normally this insecure or this easily flustered, blames the way he's acting on the hormones. He pushes Harry down to lie on his back and straddles his waist. His belly rests heavily on Harry’s abs as Harry’s hands on his widened hips guide him into the right position. “Gorgeous,” Harry whispers when he gets Louis where he wants him.

 

"Not too heavy, am I?" Louis checks. He's not even fishing for a compliment, he knows he's a lot heavier than they're both used to and he doesn't want Harry to be uncomfortable, trapped underneath him as he is, but Harry doesn't take it that way.

 

" _Baby_ , you're perfect, so stunning when you're all swollen with our babies, love feeling your belly on top of me," he babbles. Harry’s not usually a talker during sex, prefers to be talked _to_ , and Louis likes it that way, has a mouth on him that would rival any porn star’s. It feels nice to be on the receiving end of that for once, especially if Harry’s gonna keep telling him how beautiful he is. Louis is not ashamed to admit that it makes him preen a bit and want to show off.

 

He wriggles his bum over Harry’s cock, grinds down on it a few times to test out how the movement feels. It's a lot harder moving with the added weight, he can already tell his thighs are going to be killing him by the end of it and if he isn't careful, it could also be hell on his back, but Harry's cock twitches against his arse and he can feel it getting him sticky wet and it's gonna be so worth it.

 

He settles his hands on Harry’s chest and uses them for balance as he lifts himself off of Harry’s lap. Harry doesn’t need to be prompted to grasp his cock at the base, get it slick and hold it steady so Louis can sit on it. He feels himself stretch around the plump head of it, moans at how good it feels, the pressure of being split open on Harry's fat cock. Normally he would take a second to adjust to Harry’s girth, but he’s impatient, pushes down all the way in one go until he’s fully seated on Harry’s thighs, the entire length of Harry's cock inside him, filling him perfectly. His thighs are already starting to burn and lifting himself off and pushing back down makes the twinge in his back return; he won’t be able to stay in this position for long so he doesn't start out slow. He lifts off and slams down, grinds in a quick circle before raising himself again. With his belly resting on Harry's his cock is trapped between them, rubbing perfectly against them every time he rolls his hips. He's going fast right away, riding Harry’s cock as hard as he can, bouncing on his lap with little _oh’_ s slipping past his lips every time their skin slaps together. He's sweating so much he can feel drops of it sliding down his back and it's not long before he's breathing hard, muscles twitching all over as he tries to keep up with the brutal rhythm he's set.

 

“You’re so tight, Lou, fuck,” Harry moans underneath him. He gets his hands on Louis’ tits, starts squeezing them, brushing his thumbs lightly over the sensitive nipples and making Louis cry out when he gets them to leak again. “ _Christ_.”

 

Louis can definitely agree with that, drops hard down onto Harry’s lap and moves his hips in little figure-eights until he finds the angle he’s looking for. He rights himself up a bit, holds onto Harry’s waist instead of his chest as he starts to bounce again, faster. His thighs burn and he’s not as stable like this, but he doesn’t need to be. He keeps Harry deep inside and only moves enough to have his cock drag over his prostate. His belly moves a bit with him, the curve of it resting on Harry’s abs, keeping his cock trapped between them.

 

“Look so good like this, love, can hardly move from how big you are but you need it so bad, don’t you?” Harry says, hips bucking up a bit; Louis whimpers, speeds up the rolls of his hips. His hands are slipping on Harry's skin, both of them covered in sweat, and he digs his nails in until he's nearly drawing blood. Harry pushes his tits up, squeezes one then the other so the milk squirts out over them both, landing mostly on Harry’s chest and over his cheeks and lips. Louis curses under his breath watching spurt after spurt of his milk paint over Harry's face and fill his open mouth, get them both sopping wet. Harry moans like Louis' milk is the best thing he's ever tasted, slurs “Got you all swollen up, don’t I, baby? Tits swollen with milk, belly swollen with our babies, cock nice and fat. And it’s all for me, isn’t it?” Louis desperately wishes he could reach down and take himself in hand, he only needs a little more and he’ll come, only needs something to push him over. Harry starts fucking up into him proper and Louis doesn't have the strength to keep up, goes completely limp, letting Harry hold him up and fuck into him in shallow but fast thrusts. "Fuck, love, you're so hot, wanna keep you pregnant forever, keep you looking all full, full of  _me_ , know how much you love that," Harry rambles. He looks completely mesemrised, eyes glued to Louis' swollen belly, wet with his milk and shiny with sweat. He rubs his thumbs over Louis' nipples and even with the added wetness it's rough and so intense it has Louis squealing.

 

“’m close,” he moans. He moves his hands behind himself, holds on to Harry's knees as he starts riding him again. He's too far away for Harry to hold them so his tits bounce and move with every push of Harry's cock inside. He can feel the weight of his belly as it shifts left and right with the rolls of his hips and the slap of his cock against the underside of his bump. He has to free one hand to support his belly which leaves him unbalanced. Harry gets his hands on his arse, pulls him open so he can get even deeper and holds him in place as he pounds into him.

 

“You're such a mess, love, leaking everywhere, look so hard it hurts. Gonna come on my cock and nothing else? Love being full of me that much? D'you like it when I tell you how gorgeous you are with your belly all big from our babies? When you can feel how hard it gets me seeing you like this, holding your own tummy while I fuck you?” And fuck, Louis _does_ , he loves it all; he pushes down to meet Harry’s next thrust and then he’s coming, shooting mostly over the swell of his tummy. “Yeah, perfect, baby,” Harry praises breathlessly as he fucks him through it. He lets go of Louis' arse to rub the come into his belly and Louis drops down onto his lap, unable to hold himself up with his arms and legs still shaking from his orgasm. Harry sits up again, holds Louis close and latches onto his tits again, starts sucking on the one he hasn’t tasted yet. He's not moving much, just quick little pushes of his hips upwards; Louis gets his hands in Harry's hair and throws his head back. He can feel Harry inside, big and hard and stretching him out perfectly. Harry sucks the milk from him and plays with his other tit, keeping it leaking all over them both and Louis knows a second before it happens that Harry’s going to come just from that. He feels the twitch of Harry's cock inside him and the wetness filling him up and moans weakly.

 

The moment Harry stops coming, he pulls out and lays Louis down on the bed. Louis sighs and goes completely boneless. He can feel the come leaking out of him. His thighs burn and his back is sore again and he’s wet and messy all over, spit and milk and come and sweat and he hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

 

Harry leans over and kisses him, asks, “Are you alright? That wasn't too much?”

 

“Perfect,” Louis says with a smile. He feels so wonderfully loose and relaxed. Tired though. He can't even open his eyes anymore.

 

“Good.” Even with his eyes closed, Louis can tell Harry's smiling that soft, fond smile, can hear it in his voice. He feels an answering fondness explode on his face.

 

Harry gets them both cleaned up, wipes Louis’s belly and chest and between his legs, gets clean pads and tapes them over his nipples before helping him move up so he’s sitting in a nest of pillows against the headboard with a soft blanket covering him. “Still up for movie night?” Harry asks.

 

Louis is actually knackered now, will probably pass out not half an hour into whatever they decide to watch. He wants to snuggle up with Harry though, wants Harry’s arm around his waist and Harry’s hand on his belly and gentle kisses on his forehead. He looks at Harry under his lashes and pouts exaggeratedly. “Don’t wanna move,” he says. He knows Harry will get it; he always does.

 

“How do you feel about _Nightmare Before Christmas_? Already have it downloaded,” he suggests. Louis grins brightly up at him. He whines a bit when Harry heads for the door. Harry comes back to peck him on the nose. “Just gonna get the laptop,” he explains.

 

When he comes back he’s carrying his laptop and a black sharpie. He puts the laptop down on the nightstand and crawls into bed. He's grinning ear to ear when sits on Louis’ thighs. Louis raises his eyebrows, but Harry just shakes his head and pulls the covers down so Louis’ belly is exposed. He uncaps the sharpie with his teeth, leans forward with an adorable little frown and starts drawing. Louis puts a hand on his cheek, strokes his thumb over Harry's cheekbone. The tip of the sharpie gliding over his skin tickles and makes him squirm and giggle a bit. He covers his mouth when the sound escapes him, but he sees the corner of Harry's mouth quirk up anyway.

 

When Harry’s finished he inspects his work. He must deem it satisfying because he recaps the sharpie and throws it towards the foot of the bed. He leans forward and places a gentle kiss on the top of Louis' belly before kissing him chastely on the lips too, smiling too wide to make it much more than a press of lips. He snaps a photo on his phone when he pulls back and shows it to Louis.

 

Staring back at him from the screen of Harry’s iPhone is his own face, happy and relaxed and fond, the same crinkles around his eyes as always, the same sharp cheekbones even with the slightly chubbier cheeks, the same thin lips stretched into a smile. He has pads taped over his nipples and isn’t wearing a bra, leaving his breasts exposed and visible. He looks tired and pleased and a bit silly.

 

But the first thing he notices is his big round belly and the smiley Harry’s drawn on it. He’s quite alright with that.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://captivekinqs.tumblr.com)


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